


Rickdiculous Relations

by gothmorty, MortiestMorty



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Bondage, Dom Rick Sanchez (Rick and Morty), Dom/sub, M/M, Male Slash, Master/Pet, Multi, Rick and Morty Month of Sin Challenge
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-19
Updated: 2018-04-29
Packaged: 2019-03-21 10:18:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13738764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gothmorty/pseuds/gothmorty, https://archiveofourown.org/users/MortiestMorty/pseuds/MortiestMorty
Summary: Something has happened to Jessica and Morty needs Rick's help to figure out what's going on, but things aren't quite as they seem.





	1. Mission Jessica

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I'm "ohgeezmortiestmortyohgeez" on tumblr and this story is an ongoing RP with "gothmorty" which you can also find on tumblr as gothmorty! We hope you enjoy this story as much as we enjoy writing it, so without further ado, here ya go! :P

“ _Rick_!”  Morty called, his voice frantic and crackling a little when he stumbled into the house, almost tripping over himself on the way inside. He messily tossed his backpack onto the floor as he slammed the door shut, his heart was racing and he didn’t know what to do. As much as he hated relying on his grandpa sometimes, this was an emergency, and he knew if anyone could help, it had to be him, and he didn’t care what kind of mood he was in to do so, this was something that needed to happen.

“Morty, hey, is something wrong?” Morty barely gave his mom a passing glance, despite how startled she had looked and sounded. It was nothing against her, but she was useless in this situation. So was his dad or his sister for that matter, neither of whom were present in the living room. Who knows where they were, and who cares at the moment? Not him! He’s got other things to care about.

Making his way straight for the garage, he figured he had the best chances of finding his grandpa Rick there first. Sure enough, Rick was found busying himself with something when Morty made his way inside. 

The abrupt break in concentration due to the slamming of the door against the garage walls upon Morty’s arrival rattled not only the nearby shelves, but Rick’s insides. He gasped and swallowed a heavy sigh of frustration as a glass vial fell from his hands and onto the floor. 

“God, fuckin', Morty you’re goddamn lucky nothing toxic or, or poisonous was in that vial.” He turned in his stool as he spoke, sweeping the shards of broken glass under the desk with his foot, he’ll probably get to it later. “What do you want? I could hear your little ass screaming from, since the second you walked through the front door.”

Ordinarily Morty might have apologized for causing Rick a little trouble, even at times he wasn’t directly at fault, but he had a one track mind at the moment. He wasn’t going to get distracted. Bigger things were at stake here, and he needed to get right to the point. Sure, maybe he was being a little dramatic, but he figured his reasons were at least valid enough.

“It’s Jessica! It’s Jessica, Rick!” Morty had to put his hand over his heart, he had ran all the way home causing it to pound pretty hard. His mind was racing with horrible scenarios; after all the shit he’s seen, anything was always possible, right? Not to mention, most of these scenarios were hardly ever good! “We, we gotta find Jessica! She’s— she's gone missing!" With a worried groan, he put his hands on his head, trying to think of what could have happened to her; struggling to calm down a little so he could think more rationally, maybe come up with a plan.

Rick took a moment to tap his fingers quizzically against the surface of his desk, looking at Morty through a hard expression of narrowed eyes and pursed lips. Studying. He huffed before rolling his eyes and scooting himself away from the desk, moving over to the shelf to pick up an item that had dropped, bumping shoulders with Morty as he made his way by, not apologizing even as he felt the boy's weight shift, making him lose his balance a little.

"Yeah, whatever, Morty. Listen, sure she’s, I’m sure she’s fine, alright? Maybe she’s sick. Got the flu or, or something, yeah?” Rick paused from going through the motions of cleaning and reorganizing his shelf as he turned to face the teenager that was still standing behind him, the look of desperation in his eyes making Rick’s own roll almost painfully back into his skull.

Morty’s fingers flexed into fists anxiously at his sides. Every second counted, and here Rick was, not taking him seriously! They were wasting so much time sitting here going back and forth like this. “No, she’s not sick, Rick! I, I mean I thought she was at first, and, and that’s why she’s been gone, but that’s not—“

Rick interrupted the boy with a huff, clearly annoyed. Moving over so that he was looming over Morty as he spoke, his arms had crossed over his chest and the look that had rested there on his face was almost eerily cold and certain. “You know what, Morty? Wanna know what I think? Maybe she got sick of dealing with you staring at her tits every half-chance you get. She probably got sooo sick, Morty.. so sick that she had to call in! I don’t think anybody would be surprised. Frankly, I don’t think anyone would blame her.”

Morty found himself being visibly taken aback, fighting back a blush. Rick was really laying it onto him, and if not for his own concerns for Jessica, he might have put his metaphorical tail between his legs and sulked off, but not this time. Besides, this absolutely wasn't fair, Morty felt he treated Jessica with respect! Right? He didn’t… didn’t ALWAYS stare at her tits.

...Right?

Regardless, he wasn't going to sit here and waste more time trying to justify himself.

“What, what the hell, Rick? I always help you on, on your adventures, don't I? It always has to be a fight, huh? Whenever I need something? This, this isn’t even really about me. I-I-It’s about Jessica!" His face began to scrunch up the longer he found himself ranting, he couldn't believe he had to stand there and put so much effort into convincing Rick to help him with something that was so obviously important; but then again, it's honestly probably what he should have expected. He always found himself letting his high expectations get the best of him around Rick, only for him to push them all back down with a firey aftermath.

Morty shook his head, as if desperately trying to shake out of his train of thought and stay on track. "No, Rick. We’re going to find her, and bring her back! You and me. I, I'm putting my foot down on this one!” Morty stood firm, even began mocking his grandpa as he crossed his own arms over his chest, standing as tall as his tiny frame would allow.

“Fine. Yes, Morty. I do drag you along with me on my adventures and I _do_ expect you to have at least half the amount of required brain power it takes to be.. to be fuckin’ grateful and appreciative. Why? Because my fuckin’.. my _adventures_ don’t revolve around getting, getting inside of Jessica’s pants, Morty.” His hands moved down to his hips, pressing firm fingers into the rough, worn cloth of his trousers, the muscles in his hands flexing almost angrily as Morty just fucking _kept on_.

“And don’t you fuckin’, don’t even dare act like that isn’t what this is about. You’re as brain dead and as transparent as a dead body, Morty. Got about the same personality as one, too. But you know what? I’ll, I’ll fuckin’ prove to you that Jessica is, that she’s okay. Will that make you happy, you little brat? Will it make you shut the fuck up?”

Morty relaxed his arms, letting them fall back down to his sides. He wasn’t about to admit to anything selfish right now, when he felt he was being the self-less one here, trying to find Jessica and all. NOT because of the reasons Rick kept trying to hint towards. He really did care about her. Why couldn’t his grandpa just do this for him? But it seemed he had finally gotten him to accept the task.

Morty’s eyes lit up but he still looked pretty beaten up emotionally from Rick’s tangents. He nodded, at least happy that Rick seemed to be giving in. “Oh yeah, so happy Rick. I’ll shut right the fuck up. Geez, could have just saved us both time and done this first, huh?” Morty said dryly, sarcastically.

Rick looked at Morty through narrowed eyes, flask still in hand as he studied his body language. Watched how Morty’s shoulders drooped, how his eyes and the corners of his mouth followed the same motion. Defeat? There was the slightest twinge in Rick’s stomach, an unnerving twist of nerves and muscle deep down that made his own lips pull up ever so slightly into a snarl. Not angry, but maybe the slightest bit guilty. Before he let himself fester on the emotion too much, let it eat at him, he went through the motions of neatly putting his flask back into that same pocket of his lab coat before getting down to his knees in front of Morty, getting down to eye level.

If he wanted Morty to trust him, he decided he would have to try and at least speak to the boy in his language. He would channel some of his negative feelings into turning this whole thing around, by turning it into a lesson.

“Who.. who knows, right Morty? Maybe I’m— hey, maybe I’m wrong about you, little guy. Got more, heh, you got more fight in you than you used to, that’s for sure. Wonder who you could’ve gotten that one from.” He took a moment to smile warmly at the boy before his expression changed just as quickly, to something much darker and more serious.

“But you have to listen to me, alright? Whatever… no matter what happens out there, I mean, like I said, Morty — I’m sure she’s fine. But regardless, no matter what you see, what we find out, I’ll be there for you. Not everyone in life is, uh, gonna be as… persistent, in that fact, as I am.”

Clearing his throat, Rick moved back to his feet as quickly as his old bones would allow in the same motion. Hesitantly, but with the lightest amount of pressure, he placed his hand onto Morty’s back, gently leading him to the ship.

“Now, lets go uh, try and find Jessica, yeah?”

Rick’s change in demeanor and tone calmed Morty relatively quickly. Shortly after though, Morty found himself getting impatient and more anxious again.. for Jessica’s sake. He didn’t need to be consoled now, he needed action!

Knowing his gramps was on his side now though gave him more relief. He sighed, “Aw gee Rick, what do you think happened?” Well whatever it was, it looked like they were about to find out. He let Rick guide him to the ship where he’d clumsily climb aboard and buckle up. If someone took Jessica, Morty would make sure they pay for it!

Rick shut the ship’s door after Morty, and made his way to the driver’s side as he stole another sip from his flask. Neglecting to buckle his own self in, his fingers instead were tapping at a few buttons, opening the garage door and roaring the ship to life, lifting them up in the air.

He took a moment to think about Morty’s question, weighed his options. He could have said about 4 different things that would’ve only upset Morty, and maybe 2 things that could’ve given him a false sense of hope. However, only one thing could spill from his lips that would be the truth, Rick knew this, and he knew that Morty wouldn’t be happy about it to hear it.

He also knew that if he had taken Morty out far enough away from everything else before he told him the truth, he at least wouldn’t be able to cause a scene. Could keep him under control, if he dared to become frantic and loud.

Rick’s eyes grew dark, a part of him kind of liked this scenario he had set up. Playing Morty like a fuckin’ fiddle. How Morty always seemed to be the one giving over control, whether or not it was intentional wasn’t the point

Rick rubbed his temples as he tried to come up with a quick, improvised response, realizing that he still hadn’t answered Morty’s pressing question. He decided to poke some fun. 

“Heh, who knows, Morty, huh? Maybe she’s.. ha, maybe she got abducted by uh, a bunch of aliens. Getting her ass probed, perhaps? I mean, we’ve all been there, right?” He snorted.

Pan to Morty, and his lips were pursed in an angry, disapproving jut, giving Rick a look that was most certainly a warning. Damn it, he didn’t need to imagine Jessica being probed by anyone other than him—erm, or ya know, no aliens! Involuntary probing! That’s just not what Morty wanted to think about right now.

Morty let the look sink in for a moment, not even honoring Rick with a frantic response. Rather, he’d quickly change the subject altogether to save his nerves some stress. “Do I really need to — I don’t know, explain again how serious this all is, Rick? D-Don’t you even want to know like.. how I know? Ya know? I mean, it turned out she’s been missing for days! I’ve got some evidence here! Shouldn’t we be looking at those facts? Interrogating her friends or something? How do we even know where to go? Where are we going exactly?” He glanced back out the window but they haven’t traveled far enough yet for him to make any sort of speculations.

Rick hadn’t noticed he had been squeezing the steering wheel of his ship until the joints in his fingers started to ache and his knuckles were pure white. It was so tiring, so draining to constantly listen to his grandson talk about this… Jessica. If she was ever anything at all she was a fucking distraction, screwing up their dynamic, messing up their flow. Rick would hardly be Rick at all if he hadn’t… done something about it.

Pondering, Rick decided and realized his little plan was slowly coming into play.

He removed the flask from his coat pocket once more, chugging the half empty container until it was empty. Not even missing a beat, he reached behind his seat to grab for an unlabeled bottle, filling up the flask before replacing the lid while he spoke. “Just relax, M-Morty. Trust me, alright? I know where we’re going. Have I ever taken you out to my off-planet security room?”

Morty blinked, giving him a curious look. “Off-planet security… room?” Nope, he can’t say he’s been there just yet. Sounded neat though. He tilted his head to the side a little, trying to make sense of it as Rick sort of explained its function.

“It’s… I rarely go there, Morty, because it’s just my back up. However, usually I’m notified if something bad happens or.. somebody we know gets abducted. I wasn’t, which is why I think this is a bullshit waste of time, Morty. But if it helps to ease your mind, I’m sure I’d be able to pull up the feedback on the monitors, see what she was up to on her last, uh.. see whatever it was she was doing before she went missing.”

Morty’s face seemed to indicate he was getting it. “So it’s like a satellite where you can see where someone is all the time?” It reminded him of how their president was able to spy and catch them watching Minecraft that one time!

“Yeah, Morty, sure. I got it put together myself about 15 years ago. Some of the technology’s a lit-little outdated now, but everything’s still.. everything up there still puts Earth’s top grade security defenses to shame.” He snorted, “These.. those official FBI ass-uugh-holes only w-wish they could be as smart as your grandpa.”

“You can see what Jessica was doing and what might have happened?” Morty’s lips pursed at the possibilities this could lead to. To be able to watch Jessica and see her …in any situation… the locker room… her room… the shower—

“$10 says she was still probed by aliens, though.” Rick winked, interrupting Morty’s train of thought.

Morty’s eyelids fell half closed to give a rather dry expression. He chose to ignore it and tried not to think of anymore impure thoughts, but waited anxiously, fidgeting in his seat until they were there.

Some time had passed, minutes — or maybe hours — spent by as Rick chugged back the liquid inside his flask, drinking maybe just a little bit more than he should on this trip. Eventually reaching their destination, Rick’s fingers pressed a few buttons next to the steering wheel, making the ship maneuver its way into a small entrance on the side of a run down looking building. It was an empty building, completely dark, the only light source was coming from the line of windows that ran along the top, making the building look eerily quiet, making the room in front of them look like it was covered in a hazy fog.

Rick cleared his throat, but made no motion to move or get out of the vehicle. Instead, his eyes turned slowly towards Morty, looking for body language that indicated he was aware of what was going on, looked for possible confusion in his eyes.

The expression in Rick’s drunk slack face was almost hungry, the alcohol in his system making it harder to keep his steady composure. His muscles tensed, as if ready to pounce, or defend himself, if things were to go astray.

“There’s no.. no fucking, security room, Morty.”


	2. Impossible Betrayal

Morty was oblivious to his manipulative grandfather. Most of the time, that seemed to be the way things went; he didn’t know what was up until it was too late. At that point, there was no reason to fight it. Despite the obvious abuse in the relationship, there was a part of him that was always so willing to forgive, trust and rely on Rick, when he knew he shouldn’t; it was weird. Some kind of psychological thing Morty was sure that he couldn’t begin to understand about himself. Not yet anyway.

Morty wasn’t nearly as stupid as people sometimes made him out to be though, particularly Rick. He knew something was off the second they arrived on the deserted planet.

The boy sat upright more, looking around with a baffled expression. He was a normally pretty easy fellow to read, unlike Rick, who seemed to do a great job lying his ass off to get him here.

Before Morty could turn and ask whether or not they were truly at the right place, Rick threw him a curve ball. If he wasn’t confused before, there was no doubt about it now. Something inside him made his stomach churn uneasily. 

“What the hell, _Rick_? What do you mean there’s no security room?” Taking over the confusion was fury. Rick was wasting time and for what??

Rick moved so that he was leaning over Morty, not touching, just hovering, causing the boy to tense up. He placed one hand on the dash in front of Morty, and the other gripped hard at the head rest of his seat, thoroughly closing him in against the passenger side door. It all felt like a threat, his eyes mixed with the way he was leering over Morty like an intimidating shadow that was daring him to try and move.

“What I mean, Morty, b-baby, is that there’s no f-fucking security room. Not, uh, not here, at least.” He risked moving the hand that was still resting on the dash to Morty’s cheek, his hair, stroking and petting the locks back into place. “It’s okay, though, Morty, s-sweetheart.”

Taken aback by all of this, Morty seemed to mentally stumble as he fought passed his building anxiety, and narrowed his eyes seriously. “S-Stop it, Rick!” Morty scolded, finding his nerve. He turned his head away, face turning red as the other stroked his hair, making him feel really uncomfortable. And to hear Rick call him 'baby' and 'sweet heart' didn't help. He didn’t understand why, even in Rick’s drunk state, that he was making what seemed to be advances on him.

Rick watched Morty slowly come into realization which made him bite at his own lip, unable to help himself. Rick was already starting to feel a warmth rising up in his belly, probably mostly brought on by the alcohol, he imagined, but very much still there nonetheless. His eyes continued to dance over Morty’s face, his body, drinking up all that they could, taking their time as the hand that was still resting there on his head began to close into a fist to Morty's response, grasping hard at chunks of his grandson’s hair, causing him to yelp. Rick let out a hard huff of breath that he didn’t realize he had been holding.

Morty had been thinking so much about Jessica that he hadn’t realized just how much his grandpa had been drinking the entire time while they journeyed to this desolate place. He could smell it so strongly on his breath as he scrunched up in his seat, wishing he'd let go. 

“And… and Jessica, Morty?” Rick leaned in real close as he spoke, his lips grazing with the most gentle amount of pressure against Morty’s forehead. “She’s… well, uh. let’s just say she’s not gonna be, a-around to bother us anymore, so you can stop worrying about her, now, lit-little one.”

Morty shivered at the contact and was quick to bark back, “Nn, get off Rick! You’re wasted!” He tried to bring Rick back to reality, and gave him a hard shove on the chest in an attempt to put some space between them, though the grip on his hair didn’t make that such a bright idea— and then it clicked on what his grandpa just said. Rick said something about Jessica that made him freeze up. Morty’s eyes opened wide.

Morty swallowed a hard lump in his throat, realization dawning that Rick had actually done something TO Jessica… But why?

This was enough to finally give Morty back his senses and backbone. He squirmed violently in his seat, trying to undo his seatbelt so he could deal with Rick easier. “What are you saying Rick?! What did you do!?” It was really hard to confront him when he was so drunk he probably wasn’t going to remember this in the morning but the young boy wasn’t going to let that stop him from laying into him if he had really done something to poor Jessica!

Rick was taken aback by Morty’s struggles, causing him to let out an aggressive snarl. He undone the seatbelt for Morty in a haste with shaky fingers, then sloppily gathered the boy in his arms. Fingers pressed hard into Morty’s arms and the back of Morty’s neck, hard enough to definitely leave some unsightly purple bruises.

The hand on Morty’s neck shoved him downwards, forcing his head to meet the dashboard along with a loud unsettling sound of flesh and bone hitting metal. Once, twice. Not hard enough to cause any serious damage, but there was now a single string of blood trickling down his nose, and Rick hissed.

“I, baby.. it’s okay. I know you’re a fighter, sweetheart. My lit-little tough guy. But I don’t wa-ugh-na have to hurt you, sweetheart. Don’t.. don’t make me have to hurt you, sweetie-sweet boy.”

Rick wasn’t entirely sure if his words were completely true, because the way blood was still running down Morty’s face, the way he could barely steady himself, and how some of the blood had smeared on his lips a little only worked up his nerves in a way that was starting to make his cock twitch in his trousers.

Rick always did something pretty insane when he was this far gone. This utterly wasted. And Morty often had to be the one to deal with those consequences. But Morty could tell right away that he’d rather be disarming another bomb than have to emotionally endure whatever the hell all of this was.

“Rick!” Morty yipped in desperation, his muscles tight with tension from all the roughing up. With a quick swipe of an anxious tongue, he could taste blood that had swelled around his upper lip. It was a challenge to speak at this point as his head was still reeling from the impact with the dashboard of the ship, but somehow he managed. “Y-You’re sick…! Get the hell off of me! I want to go home!” Morty tried to sound brave and stern anyway but it sounded more like desperate pleas. Sometimes if he sounded strong enough, on occasion his grandpa would relent to his needs, but he really didn’t sound strong enough anymore. Even with the knowledge that Rick had done something to Jessica fueling his fire, this was just all so messed up.

Morty would be lying if he didn’t admit he had a fucked up relationship with his grandpa already but this was definitely taking things to the next extreme. The way Rick cooed and spoke to him made him feel weird in all sorts of ways he didn’t realize one could feel weird. Ordinarily he’d be jumping through hoops to get any sort of praise from Rick, but this was so much different. Rick shouldn’t be talking to him like this! But he was too afraid to move again right away. He had to keep his eyes averted to ensure Rick couldn’t see just how unsure, nervous, and scared he really was. As if he was certain his predatory nature would feed on it.

Ignoring the boy’s protests, Rick only pulled Morty away from the dash and held him with tight, unrelenting arms. He pressed the boy’s head into his chest, not seeming to mind the fact that blood was beginning to smear on one of the lapels of his coat.

Morty whined uncomfortably, his voice giving way to that unique crack it had whenever he held a syllable too long. He grit his teeth and tried to lean back out of Rick’s hold. Tried to muster up more strength to push him at an arm’s length away.

“Shh, hey, I’m sorry I scared you, baby. But… you _are_ home, Morty. We’re home, yeah? Hey, c-come ‘ere.” With more strength and ease than Rick should be able to possess right now, he lifted the boy up and off his seat – albeit just a little awkwardly – and placed him in his lap, adjusting Morty so that they were facing each other in the small space between the seat and the steering wheel, his legs straddling Rick’s own. Clumsy fingers hooked into belt loops as Rick’s lips grazed against Morty’s ear, breath hitching as he felt the warmth radiating off Morty, heating his face, his hands… his crotch.

It was unintentional, but Rick’s hips jerked into the warmth, needy and desperate as blood just kept running to his cock, which was now semi-erect.

“ _Fuck_ , Morty, baby. You… God. Already making me feel good. Do you like that, sweetie? Knowing you make me feel good? Knowing you’re being so good for me?”

Morty could feel something stiff pushing against him, making him tremble fearfully. Nothing Rick said helped anything but his anxiety to bloom and his mind felt like it was in shambles, unable to figure out what to do. “Y-You’re not making any sense!” He was certain Rick was just being crazy. Crazy drunk… and doing things Morty was sure maybe… maybe Rick wouldn’t ordinarily do to him. Deep down he believed Rick really did care about him… even though sometimes he wanted to believe differently. As if that would help him learn to just stay away from him. To stop going on these crazy adventures, to stop being his puppet - maybe he wouldn't be in the situation he was in now if he had learned to turn his back on Rick a long time ago.

Sitting on Rick’s lap was the most awkward thing, feeling his body become excited by him. Morty’s face was flushed red, a vibrant hue from his grandpa’s advances, and his eyes were wild with increasing trauma. He couldn’t lean back much due to the steering wheel burying into him. It kept him snug against his grandpa, kept his full weight onto Rick’s heated lap.

Morty grimaced as he kept feeling Rick’s lips by his ear, causing him to try and quickly crane his head back to escape the contact. Then another buck, stirring a jolt of embarrassing friction that he didn’t want to feel. Morty didn’t want to imagine any sort of thoughts like these; didn’t want this part of his life totally fucked up and taken over too. Rick took everything from him and it looked like that was going to include his virginity if he didn’t figure out something.

Suddenly, like a volcano, he erupted, the stress becoming too much. “NO!” Morty decided he wasn’t going to allow it. He was his own person, damn it! He had a choice in this! He didn’t always have to do what Rick says! “You’re selfish! A-An asshole Rick! Nothing but a… Just a jerk! You.. I.. If you don’t let me go, I’m telling everyone about this!” There was no way he would, this was just too humiliating - but Rick wouldn’t know that. And threatening him before through the use of tattle telling has worked. It was worth a shot!

In case it wasn't, he had back-up in the form of a fist, which he shot in Rick’s direction to drive the point home. “You don’t own me Rick! You.. You hurt Jessica and now you’re hurting me, and I don’t want anything to do with you!”

Rick’s nose stung from the impact and left him in a moment of shock and daze. His fingers unhooked from Morty’s pants and fluttered their way up to where Morty hit, hissing as they made contact. When he pulled them away, he noticed through narrowed eyes and with lips parted into a snarl that they were coated in drops of blood.

Almost without missing a beat, Rick’s hand flew right back up to Morty, wrapping back around chunks of hair as the other pried at the handle of the ship’s door, swinging it open and then leading them both outside into the dark, oppressive emptiness of the mysterious building. Doing a full 180, he yanked and pulled at Morty’s body, bending him over and pressing him hard against the exterior of the ship. His free arm gathered both of Morty’s into his own, keeping him steady, keeping him from thrashing.

“Is that right, Morty, hm? You want nothing to do with me? You want to go home, little one?”

Rick’s hand that was still in Morty’s hair loosened it’s grip, stroking the locks back into place before roaming it’s way down Morty’s body with gentle finger tips, taking a moment to caress his shoulder blades through the fabric of his shirt, the skin on his stomach where the shirt had become just a little pulled up from the position he was in. Rick hummed contentedly as his hand made it’s way down to Morty’s ass, stroking the area between his legs through the denim of his jeans with eager fingers. The warmth pleasantly cocooned his fingers as he rubbed, and it pulled out a sigh of approval from his lips. He found himself jerking his hips again into Morty’s side and the friction made him groan.

“I don’t think that’s true, M-Morty–ffuuuck. However, I imagined I’d have to do a-a little.. convincing. Don’t mind a little fight, baby. Makes it muuuch more rewarding when-when they finally give in. And, heh, I-I’ve never had a Morty who uh, didn’t give in eventually, baby.”

“Please, Rick…” Morty bit his bottom lip, his strength wavering to desperation as his eyes started to become blurry from the stress. Stupid tears. Stupid small weak body.. He felt so insignificant against him and he hated that.

Morty struggled to ignore the pressure between his legs, Rick’s hand. He tried to squeeze his thighs together to protect his privates from the intrusive fingers to no avail. Morty couldn’t believe this was really going to happen. He just couldn’t believe it.

And to hear Rick talk, he’s had experience before. With other Morties? Is that what he was implying? Was he not the Mortiest Morty? Was he not his Morty? Or did he just fuck around with random Morties he’s met on his adventures? Damn, Morty couldn’t help but think, this was all so messed up!

Morty shut his eyes. A masochistic part of himself told him to just accept it and move on. Rick always got his way, what was the point in fighting it? It really felt like his purpose in life was just to make the bastard happy and even then, he didn’t really do THAT particularly well. Rick was so screwed up; he couldn’t even have a proper relationship with him. Even when Morty really did love him no matter how fucked up things always got between them. Morty hated himself more than anything for that. He shouldn’t love him at all! He shouldn’t want to be with him at all! If he had just stopped giving Rick chances, maybe he wouldn’t be where he was right now!

“Please _what_ , Morty?” Rick chanced letting go of Morty’s arms just long enough for the time it took to flip him over onto his back. One hand gathered both of Morty’s own with ease, holding them up and over his head.

“Are you crying, honey? Aren’t you.. whatever happened to my brave little boy, hm? You’re always so-so strong and brave for me. Like you like that.”

His free hand rubbed at the tears on Morty’s cheeks before roaming back down, slipping its way under his shirt to prod and pinch at one of Morty’s nipples, making his back arch in distress.

“You’re not really scared of me, are you, mmm? I don’t-don’t wanna scare you, Morty, baby boy. I could make you feel so good, think about it a lot, sweetheart. About all the ways I can make you feel good with just my fingers. But if you don’t relax, kitten, i-if we can’t get you to calm down soon, I won’t hesitate to, uh, inject you with something that’ll _fucking make you_.“

Morty searched Rick’s eyes for mercy but it was clear he wasn’t going to get any. “Rick..” He pleaded, his hips shifting from left to right as he writhed against the ship. His head turned away as Rick continued to grope at him so he wouldn’t have to see how much this was all effecting him. There was no denying his body was going to feel something from all of this but Morty refused to blame himself for it. Rick was forcing him to feel it and he shouldn’t hate himself for that, right?

Reminding himself of Rick’s threat, Morty didn’t dare chance the possibility of being injected with something that’d totally take away his free will. The idea was quite terrifying. With a deep breath, it pained him to say what he said next. “J-Just get it over with already then. Just do it and and.. and take me home.” Morty didn’t want to give up those defeating words but the old son of a bitch had him in a corner. Maybe in another universe there was another Morty who continued his defiance, who might have even been able to fight Rick off, but he just couldn’t find it in him to do that. He was all choked up, face wet with tears.

“Thaaat’s it.. gonna sit there like a good boy, let me take over, hm? Gonna be quiet for me?” Rick’s hand moved away from Morty’s nipple to lift his shirt, leaving his chest bare and exposed. He leaned down to mouth and tease at the same nipple as before, tongue gently lapping over the erect nob, his warm breath coming in hitched waves over the flesh as a soft moan escaped his throat.

“I was hoping I wouldn’t h-have to knock you out, baby boy. However, threaten me one more time, sweetheart, and we’ll, uh, have to do a little more than make sure you’re _just knocked out_. Understand?”

Rick’s hand moved to stroke at Morty’s tear stained face as he spoke, his gentle fingers a harsh contrast to his word.

“Don’t think something like that would stop me, either, love.”

The faint sounds of whooshing of air and electricity could be heard from what sounded like behind the building just as Rick’s fingers were undoing his own jeans, moving then to release his cock which was fully hard now.

Morty felt his skin crawl. He tried not to say anything, though his body was obviously protesting. His eyes squeezed shut and then opened again to stare at the ceiling of this dirty place with a look that was reminiscent to the shock and trauma he felt during their first timeline jump, when they had to replace his and Rick’s dead selves.

Morty didn’t even register the noises that were happening nearby. He just waited.. like a ‘good boy,’ waited for his Rick to take what was his…

Rick’s hands wasted no time to perform the same action to Morty’s jeans as his own, unbuttoning them to force them down over his slim hips. Rick was so close, so ready. It was all so perfect, so…–- 

“Oh… my god, _MORTY_?“


	3. Rickgret

Morty heard Rick’s voice loud and clear — except not the Rick on top of him.

It made him glance briefly off to the side where he saw another Rick.

It had all happened so fast, the sight in front of Rick 137's eyes felt like it was burning a hole into his brain, literally burning away at his insides. Little time was wasted, however. It was almost like his body wasn’t his own as he reached down for the gun in his pocket and blew out the brains of the Rick in between him and Morty with a single bullet, spraying an unsightly amount of blood and tissue this way and that. The body slumped over to the ground like a rag doll. Rick's heart pounded painfully in his chest, mixed with the way his stomach was flipping made him want to vomit, the feeling teasing mercilessly at the back of his throat.

“Je-What the **fuck** , Morty...” Rick’s voice was barely above a whisper, like all the wind inside of him had left as if he’d been punched in the gut.

A punch to the gut that definitely would have been deserved if it were physical, considering the context.

Should he try to help him up? ...Hug him? Touch him, at all? Would Morty even let him? Rick didn’t know. “Look, I, Morty. I don’t-I don’t really have, a lot of time… right now t-to explain so, I mean w-we have to get out of here, n-now. I have to take you home. Okay? Is.. is that okay because I only have so much charge left in my portal... gun, a-and...”

The jolt of the imposter Rick's body as it was shot sort of helped zap Morty out of his shocked stupor at this point and he was sitting upright on the hood of the ship, his shirt slipping back down as he looked back and forth between the dead Rick and the alive Rick.

Dark, stressed out circles had formed under Morty’s eyes while his poor brain tried to piece all of this confusion together. Whatever Rick was saying to him right now didn't properly process. “What the… what the _hell_ is going on?” He cut Rick off, voice cracking under pressure, sounding emotionally strained. “Who is that or.. or who are _you_? I want some damn answers. I.. I deserve a lot of answers r-right now!” Morty pulled his knees up to his chest as he sat awkwardly on the hood, studying Rick nervously, his mind totally blown. He wanted to go home but he found it difficult to move, so he was just buying time until he felt he could really stand again on his own shaky legs.

“Morty, I.. you have to try to calm down before I try to explain anything. F-fuck I hardly even, I don’t even know what’s going on. I was gone for like, a few f-fucking days, Morty! Listen, I literally do not have the time right now. We need to go home.” He extended a hand, unsure. Almost positive Morty wouldn’t take it, certain he didn’t even want to look at him right now. “Please? And, God, z-zip up your pants, alright?”

Rick had absolutely no idea how to handle what was in front of him. All he knew was that his fingers were shaking the way they often would whenever he needed a drink, despite the fact that his stomach wouldn’t stop churning and he was sure he’d be that much more prone to puking it all up later. He didn’t care.

Morty’s eyes watered more as he realized some asshole from another dimension had just tried to move in with them like one of those crazed parasites. Tried to just take over the family like… well, any Rick would really, but he got stuck with a pervert. An extreme version of Rick that made him feel guilty for thinking that HIS Rick would have forced him into something THAT fucked up. Sometimes though.. it was hard to tell what Rick was capable of, and if this Rick had those feelings for him… did his own? Maybe not as strong, but...

Morty tried not to think about that right now. He was safe now. What happened had nothing to do with him or HIS Rick. This was just another fucked up thing that happened because of who they were. Like no other obstacle he hasn’t managed to overcome before, right?

Morty’s face turned so red it was a wonder it wouldn’t stain that way when Rick told him to zip up his pants. He fumbled quickly to do just that and slipped off the hood of the car, standing firm and balling his hands into fists at his sides. He didn’t take Rick’s hand, trying to suck it up and just pretend this shit didn’t happen. But he was still a kid, an emotional one at that, so it was hard not to just… NEED some consoling right now.

He meekly put his arms around Rick and buried his face against his coat, trembling all over, feeling worse than when King Jellybean tried to take advantage of him. It was that sense of hopelessness, the fact he actually gave in to defeat that terrified him the most. At least he was able to kick King Jellybean’s ass.

“Ok.. let’s go home…” He murmured softly, waiting to be led through.

Rick's eyes burned with the heavy threat of tearing up in response to Morty’s hug, the desperation of it all apparent in the way his head was burying into him, how his fingers were digging into the fabric there. Seeing Morty like this awoke something ugly and protective inside of Rick; vicious and possessive. His fingers twitched with it. Made him want to slit the throat of any motherfucker who even dared to leave Morty feeling like this, shivering and trembling like a frightened dog. Even if it was, in a way, his own self.

Instead, all he could do was bite his tongue. He almost wished he could have left his alternate self alive, pull him off into a private room to teach him a lesson, of sorts. Keep him alive until he was begging for death. His brain flooded with thoughts of all the terrible, awful things he’d like to do, a bullet to the brain just... wasn’t enough.

Morty was still holding on, a sniffle breaking his morbid train of thought hard enough to make him look and blink down at the boy. Should he.. touch him?

Rick risked adjusting, moving down to kneel in front of Morty with slow, cautious movements, eyes never breaking contact with Morty’s face.

“H-hey, Morty,” Long arms wrapped themselves around Morty’s middle, one hand pressing itself against the back of Morty’s head, loose and non threatening enough so that he could pull away if he needed to. “I’m here, Morty. Nothing is going to happen to you, now. Not while I’m here. When we get back, I want you to try and get some sleep, okay? Can you do that for me? When you wake up, if you want, we can uh, talk about... this.. for as long as you need.”

It was through Rick’s easing tone that Morty felt a little more relaxed. That rare treat that his subconscious craved. He hated how the other Rick tried to use it to his advantage.

Morty was exhausted, mentally and physically. He had bruises what felt like all over, and dried blood still speckled all over his face. He wanted to clean himself up and just… go to sleep. For a very long time.

Morty nodded and wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. He sniffled and didn’t say anything. He didn’t know if he wanted to talk about everything that happened but he’d see how he was feeling in the morning.

"That's it, come on. Up we go." Rick gently swooped Morty up into his arms after digging in his pocket for the portal gun and shooting a bright green energy that's never seemed more welcome. Walking through, they entered into Morty's room. The lights were off, but through the darkness Rick's eyes were adjusted enough to tell that everything was how he remembered it. With bed sheets a jumbled mess on one corner of the bed, Rick just simply laid the boy down, taking his time as he untangled the covers, letting himself enjoy the rare, arguably mundane and tedious task of just... being a grandfather, tucking his grandson in at night. His life was always much too fast paced for moments like this.

‘ _Maybe if your life wasn't so fast paced then this wouldn't have happened_.’

The bitter thought that entered Rick’s head made him huff out a breath as he tried to force it out of his brain. He knows it's true. He knows it's his fault. There's probably always going to be a part of Morty that will never fully trust Rick again, won't ever be able to truly feel comfortable around him in the same way as before.

‘ _At least keep it together until you leave the fuckin' room, Sanchez._ ’

"Can I get you some water? Anything at all, Morty?

Morty wanted a bath. But he didn't really feel like getting up now that Rick had him all tucked into bed. The bed was just so inviting... There was no way he could leave it just yet. His eyelids were feeling pretty heavy too. They were difficult to keep open and he didn't want to. Unconsciousness would be his ultimate relief.

“No, Rick.. I.. I’m ok..” He really wanted to be alone as well. He still felt rather humiliated about the whole thing and being with Rick right now was a little difficult. He rolled away from him, curling up more into the covers and pulling them over his head.

Without another word, Rick quietly retreated from Morty’s bedroom, clicking the door shut behind him. His legs felt like mush and threatened to give out underneath him.

_’It’s all your fault.’_

_‘You did this.’_

_‘You literally did this to him.’_

The thoughts swirled around relentlessly in Rick’s head. Shakiness in his fingers and the throbbing in his head returned which meant he needed a fucking drink, right now. Somehow his legs were able to carry him to his vice, however once reaching the refrigerator and grabbing whatever full bottle his hand touched first, he backed away and slid down, his behind hitting hard against the floor and the knobs on the counter pressed uncomfortably into his back as he did so but he ignored it. He could only focus on lifting the bottle to his eager mouth.

_‘How could you let this happen?’_

“Ff-fuc-c-ckin’ shut u-up.” chug.

_‘Why do you continue to leave when you know that only bad things happen when do you?’_

“ **Stop**.” chug. chug.

_’Is it what you want, you prick? For bad things to happen?’_

_‘For your grandson to get raped?’_

“F-fuckin’, god damnit stop… _please stop_.”

Rick moved his limbs and muscles until he was in a standing position, giving his mind and body something to think of that wasn’t about how bad of a person he was.

Moving until he reached his bedroom, he fell back onto his bed and stared at the ceiling through narrowed, tired and tipsy eyes. He could feel them getting heavy, so he let them rest, half empty bottle falling at his feet as he drifted.


	4. Moving On

Through the closed door of his bedroom, Rick was beginning to hear the faint whispered sounds of running water; the calming white noise and static of early morning showers. It was quiet, but noticeable enough for him to slowly peel back his eyelids in response. He rearranged himself into a sitting position with a groan, together with a much too familiar rising ache between his temples -- the kind he would sometimes get whenever he had partaken in drinking the night before -- and the understanding that his mind was most definitely not going to let him get anymore sleep tonight.

**5:00am.**

Who could be in the shower at this hour? Rick's stomach flipped with the realization that it could've been Morty. Nobody else is usually awake at this hour. Unless it's Rick, working on some bullshit science like he often would, late nights spent with hushed curses and drinks until he was laying in a puddle of his own saliva and defeat. Sometimes there was celebratory shouting at maybe the discovery of a new element, or the finalization of a month long project. 

The symptoms he's already seen of Morty carried too much of the same weight from the last time that this happened. The talk was coming soon, and Rick knew he wasn't fucking ready for it. What would he even have to say? Could he say **anything** that would even coax out a sliver of hope for Morty? 

Making his way down the hall, he wondered if he should keep himself pumped full of alcohol for preparation of the day ahead of him. What he really wanted to do was to leave, hide, possibly some place off planet until all of this blew over. But none of this was going to blow over, none of it was going to just **go away** until he confronted it. Rick knew this. Leaving again would only cause more harm than good, and Morty would most definitely want and expect his grandpa to be sober during this talk, whenever he decided it was time for it to happen. That's literally the very least that Rick could offer to him.

Some amount of time had passed now, Rick sitting in one of the chairs at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee when Summer barged in with a booming voice, breaking his train of thought.

"Who's in the shower? I've been waiting for, like, 20 minutes!"

Rick shrugged. Much like his thoughts, his voice was bleak and dull, absent of all the sarcasm and snark that might have been there normally when he spoke.

"It's probably just Morty, S-Summer. Why don't you knock on the door and find out?"

Summer was noticeably taken aback, eyebrow arched with confusion and mild concern at Rick's empty tone, but was too much in a rush to sit there and try to investigate. She shrugged her shoulders before making her way back down the hall, knocking her fist against the door while barking out her grumbled frustration about the shower. Moments later, the sounds of the water tap being turned off could be heard, followed by almost a painful silence. Rick gulped, any second now Morty would probably be making his way down to the kitchen, and the thought of having to face him right now made his fingers tighten and dig into the cup between his palms. He briefly wondered if Morty would try to leave the house without eating any breakfast, how hard it might be to get him to eat. He was glad that he at least had it in him to shower.

Summer had already made her way into the shower, the sound of rushing water returning. The muscles in Rick's legs tensed as if everything inside of him wanted him to leave as he heard the sounds of nervous footsteps going up and down the hall.

“You feeling alright, dad?” Beth overheard the small exchange but didn’t really think anything was too wrong. Her dad could handle almost anything after all, but it gave her an opportunity to make small talk while she fixed breakfast. 

Rick was the kind of man who, more often than not, could pretty much improv his way out of anything, a skill that he was genuinely grateful for. So when his daughter gently pried, he only smiled warmly with an appreciative nod. He scooted himself back in his chair to get himself some more coffee -- needing as much of whatever stimulant he was allowed to put inside his body today at the mess he had to handle in the hours to come -- and pulled Beth into a one-armed hug before reaching the coffee machine.

"Waffles? Already smells great, sweetheart." Beth looked up with loving eyes at her father, looking almost as if cartoon-style hearts were floating around her head due to the compliment which easily distracted her from her original question. 

A part of Rick knew that what he **should** do is tell Beth everything. It would be the right thing to do. If he didn't, Beth would certainly be proposing questions, demanding to know just what was going on if he didn't play his cards right, didn't at least make everything seem like it was okay. She does deserve to know what's happening in her son’s life, after all -- a fact that has been repeated many times over along with a jabbing, accusatory finger towards Rick's way during those times when he's kept Morty away just a little too long.

Instead, he wanted to try to keep things at peace -- at least, keep things as much at peace as was possible in this shit show excuse of a household. Besides, if Rick was able to take care of the situation by himself, why get others involved? It just wasn't necessary. 

Jerry found his way downstairs, stretching his arms and having overslept a bit. Beth gave Jerry a look, indicating her distaste for his laziness as he plopped into a chair and started playing some game on his phone. She’d be even more annoyed with him if not for the fact he actually did manage to find a job. It was part time, but it was something, and he still had some time before he needed to rush off for work.

Jerry hadn’t even noticed Morty standing in the hall, lingering, building up the courage to greet his family like nothing was wrong, when he mindlessly passed him. Morty wished he could fake being sick so that he could get out of school that day. How could he possibly go back knowing what must have happened to Jessica? But with a genius grandfather, who already created a cure for most common colds and flu viruses, he couldn’t exactly go about things the same as a normal kid who didn’t want to go to school that day. 

Coming downstairs, Morty paused briefly at the sight of Rick at the table. His face turned a little red; just knowing what he knew made things embarrassing for him to be seen at all. He averted his eyes quickly though and tried to act as normal as possible.

Morty slipped into the seat beside of Rick and as much as he tried to look casual, that just seemed to make him appear more awkward. “H-Hey Rick..” He had to cut the tension he knew was going to be between them. Plus.. he needed him on his side, to help him try and wiggle his way out of school.

Rick had been mentally preparing for Morty’s presence ever since he had woken up, but seeing the way Morty's eyes looked so dead, how the bruises on his arms peaked out from underneath his tee shirt, he wondered if anybody else in the room noticed how beat up he looked. His throat went dry as the boy greeted him. Rick had to keep things casual, didn't want to raise any suspicion, but he couldn't help how the guilt was rushing over him in painful waves. 

"Hey, Morty." He clenched a single fist under the table, not knowing what else to say. All the faked perkiness from before washed away. Beth started putting down plates of waffles and drinks for the table before taking a seat herself. She knew Summer would be down shortly to join them as well.

“Mom… Dad…” Morty glanced back and forth between them, barely even acknowledging his meal, “I think I need to stay home today. Rick has been working on a… on some kind of break through, right Rick? He really needs me on this one and I just—“

“N-O Morty.” Jerry spelled it out obnoxiously without missing a beat. 

“But—“ Morty started to protest only to be interrupted again. 

Jerry actually managed to pry his eyes up off his phone to look over at Morty this time. “If I recall, just a couple of days ago, Rick took you out of school for some kind of underwater adventure.” 

Morty froze up awkwardly at the thought. It wasn’t the badass Atlantis adventure him and HIS Rick has went on before, no… It was an adventure the imposter Rick took him on, which must have certainly gave Morty’s Rick an idea of how long this Rick has been living here and grooming Morty for his own sick needs. 

Their ‘underwater adventure’ consisted of just going to the pool and having some bonding time together which, in retrospect, seems a lot creepier now but makes more sense. The jerk just wanted to see Morty wet and in his swimsuit. Ughhh.

Morty’s eye twitched.

Taking in Morty’s timid and nervous words about school put the tension right back into Rick's stomach as he watched. His head spun with the mixed emotions that were being thrown at him all too rapidly. But his eyes rolled as Jerry rebutted with fake authority. 

"Oh, big tough employed guy over here knows how to spell, now, huh? Who-who taught you that one, J-Jerry?" Rick’s eyes narrowed, feeling a little back to normal now that he was able to get his jab in, feeling like his old regular self. "Cool it. He's staying home. I'll make sure he, uh, gets to school tomorrow."

Jerry shot a desperate glance towards Beth, who was already done with her waffles and putting on her coat, rushed. 

"Don't look at me, Jerry. Just because he's my father doesn't make it my job every time. I have to get to work." Grabbing her bag and heading out the door, Jerry sputtered with a frustrated "whatever" as he grabbed his phone and walked upstairs, leaving Rick and Morty alone at the table for only a moment until Summer finally joined in, late, but looking nice and dressed up. "Can't stay for breakfast, guys, sorry. Boy is walking me to school, I'll catch you later.”

Rick only shrugged his shoulders in response, ignoring the anxious flipping of his stomach as it was yet again returned to a painful silence. He swished around the remaining coffee in his mug as he thought of words, debating and weighing his options. He decided to start with small talk.

"Did you, uh, sleep okay last night, Morty?"

Morty slumped back in his seat, feeling relieved that his parents were too wrapped up in their own lives this morning to argue about the situation, or even notice his condition. Normally Summer was more observant than that, but when she had a boy to think about, it was hard to break that concentration as well. So Morty didn’t say anything as everyone made themselves scarce except for Rick. He pursed his lips dumbly, trying to think of what to say or do while he sat there when Rick decided to speak up. Rick may have already guessed as much, but it didn’t appear as though Morty was going to eat.

The boy was surprisingly quick to retort, however. "What kind of question is that, Rick?” Morty didn’t mean to snap at him but they both knew the answer. 

Taking a mental step back, Morty took a deep breath. “I can’t go to school anymore, Rick. I don’t ever want to go back.” The boy felt terribly guilty about what happened to Jessica. If not for him, the imposter wouldn’t have set his sights on her. He just had to talk about her too much. Had to make the other Rick feel threatened.

“Jessica’s gone… It’s my fault. He got rid of her because of me.”

Ricks lips formed into a hard line at Morty’s response, irritation heavy on his voice, which was expected but still was enough to force the reality of the situation back in the air like a slap to the face, and it stung. 

Hearing Morty speak, he felt as if he could only be a supportive force, a listening ear until he heard the words ‘it’s my fault’. If anything, he wanted to make sure Morty did not think that way about himself. The logic didn’t add up. 

“You know that isn’t true, Morty. If anything, it’s my fault.” Rick bit his tongue at his words. He knew it was true, but he didn’t want to dwell on the idea. Not now. He wondered if he had any room to back peddle, he tried changing the subject.

“However, Morty, I’m sure I could pull some strings easily enough to get you out of school, if that’s what you-what you really want. It’s not like you hardly ever went anyways. As long as you can promise to at the very least get your GED, I don’t care what you do.”

Morty couldn’t imagine Rick even caring about him getting his GED since they were always focusing on a bigger picture here, but that was clearly to pacify his parents. There was more outside this world, and from the very beginning, Rick never seemed to want him to have a mundane existence. To be what others might call ‘normal.’ His job in life seemed already set, to be grandpa’s little helper.

A part of him still wanted to go to school though. A part of him wanted to be a normal kid but at this point, he knew that would just bore him.

Though his thoughts got redirected briefly, Morty started wondering back to what Rick said. It being Rick’s fault instead of his.

“Where were you?” Morty looked at him as if he better have a damn good reason why he disappeared. And maybe Rick better start telling people when he planned on leaving for some crazy adventure on his own! Especially since there were apparent consequences to those actions. Not just to the family though, but to Rick as well. He may not think he needs any help, but sometimes it was necessary whether he liked it or not, and if he were to disappear one day, how would any of them be able to find him and help him without a clue? Another Rick could just move in on them again without them being any the wiser!

Rick cursed at himself under his breath as Morty asked the question he knew was coming despite his efforts for it not to. He didn’t want to talk about this right now, nothing he had to say would bring any comfort towards Morty, and anything he could say would only raise the tension between them, would set the fact into stone that he WAS gone, and could even account for where he was when this all happened. The urge to hide was becoming more strong, either by drinking himself into a coma or daring to blow all this under the rug, pretend it didn’t exist, that the issue wasn’t actually as big as the both of them knew it was.

Rick took several deep breaths before weighing his options. There was only one thing he could say, the truth, but maybe if he worded his thoughts carefully enough then maybe the backlash wouldn’t be as bad.

“I... I was out doing what I always do, Morty. I don’t really- I mean.” Rick sighed. “Carrying you along with me would have been unnecessary. I thought it was going to be a quick trip, something I could have wrapped up in a couple hours. Nobody would have even noticed that I was gone, that’s what I thought. But I was wrong, Morty.”

He finished off the rest of his coffee, which had gotten cold by now and made his face scrunch up unpleasantly. “As far as who the Rick who came in after I left, I.. I have a vague idea of it might have been, but he’s dead now, Morty. We don’t have to worry about him ever again.” He looked his way with worried eyes. The cold expression of worry and concern clear as day as he studied Morty’s facial expression.

Morty knew he shouldn’t have expected Rick’s answer to make him feel better at all, he wished it could have, but it only made him feel more frustrated inside. 

“We don’t, huh?” Morty wasn’t so sure they didn’t have to worry about “Rick” again. There was no escaping the Ricks out there… And to know that even one of those Ricks had those kinds of feelings for him made him wonder too much, more than he should, about his own Rick. 

Morty looked away, knowing he should change the subject. Dwelling on this right now was not a good idea. 

“You should probably go get the ship or something. Maybe dispose of the body. I don’t know. I’m going to get a little more rest.” Morty got up, not really sure how much more talking about this was necessary. He’d rather just go about things like normal, and he had a feeling Rick would help move things in that direction as well. He could have his own little break downs in the safety of his own private room, where he couldn't be judged or held accountable. He'd get it all out, and move on. 

Like usual.


End file.
